Xii: Titled Men

Dearest Prof – I did not title them: These ever-ready logs Ready to assemble ants of cowries; They dance from sea to land Wishing to be titled by exigent gods Who watch over their lonely coronations Lavished with sacrificial songs! I did not title them: Pot-bellied officees of faculties Chewing mouthfuls of the land’s laws Their neighbours: Half-truthful goblins of tax-collectors The smiling kick-backers And officees of admissions – Who titled these men? Dearest Prof – Many are these titled men of today Are they found everywhere? Do they mount uniformed road-blocks As we pass safety-roads without eyes? Head-strong: are their skulls also fragile? Could the husk of a tax-collectors mouth Eat the husks of his pot’s bottom? Who titled these men? Matching boldly with wrong titles? Of course, the red-caps of the under world Visited the newly world-renowned ref (Prof, a roused lad heard it told!) Did they leave the corpse by the ref? Sadistic: are they also shrewdly fraternal? I cannot lavish the sacred lines.